


Where the Wild Things Are

by Zanne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Transformation, Wincest (non-graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanne/pseuds/Zanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean stumble upon a fairy curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Wild Things Are

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to saintsghost and brigid_tanner for beta-ing! Kripke owns all. (Originally posted: 10/19/09)

  
“This is just plain embarrassing!” Dean grumbled, hunching awkwardly behind the car.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to make sure his brother was still following, and hissed, “I told you to keep your clothes on, Dean!”

“They itch,” Dean whined in reply, scratching at his thigh. The move was graceful, making Sam pause as he watched the muscles bunch beneath his brother’s flesh, and he zoned out for a moment as the sun glistened over the broad expanse of Dean’s bared chest. It was as if Dean were surrounded by the dappled light of spring - a slightly out-of-focus image of desire - that hazy, euphoric sensation drugging Sam’s senses, and making need surge within him.

“Hey!” The muffled shout was more affronted this time, and Dean held his ruined shirt up in front of him. “Quit staring, freak!”

“I’m _not_ staring!” Sam denied quickly, leaning around the corner of the motel to peer at the parking lot. He tried to subtly adjust the shirt he had draped around his waist like an apron, as his short tail flicked nervously back and forth. “And I’m not a freak.”

“Yeah?” Dean snorted in amusement. “You have a tail. I know freak when I see it, Mr. Tumnus.”

“Dean,” Sam began with a grimace. “That’s….” He paused, fidgeting in discomfort, and Dean gave the straining shirt over Sam’s lap a pointed glare before nimbly gliding over behind him.

“Something come…up?” Dean laughed, and Sam jumped at the brush of Dean’s skin against his bare back, the touch sending shivers down his spine.

“I told you not to get too close!”

“I’m not too close,” Dean said, his voice suddenly turning husky as he inched a step closer, the brush of Sam’s furred haunches tickling his belly. “There’s no such thing as too close….”

Sam skipped forward to get out of reach, his hooves clopping awkwardly on the asphalt as he tried to maintain his balance. “Dean!” Sam nearly shouted, taking off his baseball cap and slapping his brother in the head with it. “ _Focus!_ ”

Dean’s eyes widened when he realized what he’d been doing, and he jumped back to put even more space between them. “Dammit!” He took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the stirring in his belly. He opened one eye to gauge his readiness to face Sam and grumbled, “Put your damn hat back on.”

Sam huffed an irritated sigh and jammed the cap back on his head, effectively hiding his slightly curved horns, but forcing his large, sloping ears to flatten out like an airplane’s wings.

“Tuck in your ears before you take off, Sister Frances,” Dean suggested, taking his turn to peer around the corner of the building. He figured if he weren’t actually looking at Sam, maybe these bizarre feeling would go away. “And I think people might buy the disguise more if you put your pants back on.”

“Look who’s talking, Edward,” Sam mumbled, his eyes focused anywhere but on Dean. “My knees bend in the opposite direction; how in the hell am I supposed to put on pants?”

“Backwards?” Dean suggested. “And it’s not my fault I glitter like a damn disco ball!”

Sam cocked his head to the side, staring at the stray beam of sunlight reflecting off the window that bounced off Dean’s skin and left it cast in an iridescent spatter of sparkles. He zoned out again, and his groin gave another painful throb, which broke him out of his reverie as he pressed his hand against his swollen cock.

“Fuck!” Sam spat out, wincing as he trotted at a quick clip towards their room, Dean trailing behind. “I get first dibs on the bathroom.” He hopped impatiently from hoof to hoof, eyes focused on the roof overhead, rather than at his brother kneeling so beguiling at his feet as Dean tried to unlock the door.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed as he fumbled with the lock, trying to pick it one handed. “Take care of that thing before you poke someone’s eye out across the street.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Sam groaned, shoving Dean out of the way and clopping towards the bathroom, his hooves tapping rhythmically on the tiles before the door slammed closed between them.

“Y’know,” Dean shouted after him. “The tail’s kinda cute.”

“Not funny!”

Dean fell back on the bed with a low chuckle, the slide of the sheets against his skin surprisingly arousing. He writhed wantonly against the bed, a soft moan escaping him.

“Stop whatever it is you’re doing!” Sam yelled through the door. “I can hear you, and it’s not helping.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Dean insisted, his voice dropping to a throaty purr as he mindlessly rutted against the sheets. “I think I need…I need to go out, Sam. It’s boring in here. I need to find some company….” Another low moan slipped from his lips as he rolled onto his back and arched his hips off the bed. “Keep me company, Sam….”

A cold, wet towel landed on his face and Dean struggled for breath, before yanking it off to glare at Sam leaning in the doorframe.

“No.”

“ _Why?_ ” Dean whined, his pupils dilated and his breath coming faster. He rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled languidly towards Sam across the rumpled bed. “I _need_ it….”

“Stop it, Dean,” Sam said, hiding his face behind his hand to keep his brother out of sight, the all too familiar ache growing once more in his groin. “We can’t go anywhere right now. It’s just…it’s not a good idea.”

“ _You_ can’t,” Dean grumbled. “You’ve got the ass of a goat.” A smirk tilted the corner of his mouth provocatively. “Or is that your face? I can’t tell.”

“I’m a satyr,” Sam explained as he crossed his arms over his chest, his tail twitching. “And you seem to be a…I’m going to guess a nymph of some sort, though I’ve never heard of a male one before. Satyrs and nymphs are often paired in the mythology as the male and female stereotypes of lust….” Sam’s voice trailed off as he hmphed under his breath and trotted over to his computer, intent on following some new line of thought.

“Are you calling me a girl?” Dean asked suspiciously, his long, curling lashes shielding the soft glimmer of his eyes as his plump, pinkened lips curled into a pout.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued, “Whatever curse it was that hit us, the Fae had it planned. The disappearances are too sporadic to draw much notice, and they add to their numbers while creating an almost perfect ward to protect their territory. People can’t keep focused long enough to notice much if they’re too busy fucking.”

Dean laughed low in his throat, stretching with the languorous ease of a cat. Sam’s gaze fixed on the arch of Dean’s hips as they thrust upwards, the bow of his back highlighting the perfect pearls of his spine hidden beneath his skin.

“Sounds…fun.”

Sam huffed another breath and bit into his bottom lip, tugging hard on his ear to distract himself with the pain.

“What’s that mean for us?” Dean asked, his strange mood shifting as suddenly as it had begun. “Except that we’re gonna have to pay extra for having a pet in the room, with you shedding all over the place.” Dean plucked a few stray goat hairs off of his shoulder.

“What it means is…,” Sam began, a slight flush tinting his cheek as his ears waggled in discomfort. “I’m a walking hard-on, and you’re a…sex toy.”

“A _what?_ ” Dean’s shriek of disbelief reached an almost girlish pitch, which Sam was too smart to point out.

“Satyrs are half goat; they represent man’s animal lust. Nymphs are designed to…inspire it,” Sam tried to explain.

“ _What?!_ ”

Sam didn’t think it was possible for Dean to get any louder.

“Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” Dean demanded.

“I think so?” Sam hazarded a guess from Dean’s displeased expression that his brother was catching on.

“So you _are_ calling me the girl.”

Sam’s lips pursed in a wry grimace, his eyes falling on the half healed circle of teeth marks that decorated Dean’s shoulder. “You know that nasty infection you got when that craquehhe bit you? You’ve been taking a grab bag of pills that you got from a guy who called himself ‘Doc Hollywood’. My guess is that a man whose office is in the back of a van might not actually have been trained in the medical profession; he probably gave you something that shouldn’t be taken together, which most likely influenced your body chemistry, and that might explain why you got hit with the female version of the curse….”

“I’m not the girl!” Dean growled, getting to his feet and pushing forward into Sam’s space.

Sam wanted to tell Dean how cute he looked when he got huffy, the urge to surge forward to meet him almost overwhelming. Instead scrambled backwards, rationality fighting its way through the pleasure haze that threatened to take him, his hooves skidding on the carpet.

“All I know is that I need you to fuck me right now before I explode!”

Both Dean and Sam stilled, and a horrified expression crossed Dean’s face as he realized what he’d just said out loud.

It was Dean’s turn to lock himself in the bathroom, and Sam hid in the closet, one hand snaking out to grab Dean’s discarded T-shirt.

Dean’s groan was muffled through the bathroom door.

“I fuckin’ hate Fairies.” 

                                                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flicking from Sam to Dean - his gaze pausing almost uncomfortably long on Dean’s supine form sprawled across the bed - before forcing himself to focus on Sam once more. He studied the tall figure before him, taking in the slightly curved horns erupting from just beneath Sam’s hairline and nearly hidden by his bangs, his slightly broadened nose, and his long, drooping goat ears. Sam’s bare torso morphed into heavily furred haunches just below his navel – the glossy fur leaving nothing to the imagination, as Bobby was quick to discover - and tapered into delicate goat legs ending with dark, shiny hooves. Sam hunched in embarrassment at the intensity of Bobby’s inspection, turning slightly from him, and Bobby noted the tip of a tail flicking behind him.

He shook his head in disbelief, and reluctantly turned to Dean.

When Bobby’s gaze fell on Dean, it was another story altogether. Dean looked like…Dean – naked as a jaybird, sure - but a somehow more voluptuous version, if that made any kind of sense at all. Bobby almost thought he was dreaming, with Dean surrounded by a nearly imperceptible incandescence that made his skin glow with health. His hair had lengthened several inches, still relatively short, but long enough to soften his hard edges and make his features appear almost…feminine. His full, pink lips – had his lips always been _that_ pink? – and his bottle green eyes glistened wantonly, and when a stray beam of sunlight slipped past the curtains and brushed his skin, he glistened as if he were sprinkled with diamond dust, drawing Bobby’s eyes further south.

When he realized he’d been staring, Bobby awkwardly cleared his throat and announced, “I’m…uh…gonna go outside for a few minutes, and when I get back, we’ll talk.”

Bobby didn’t show up again until later that afternoon. 

                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fairies, right?” Bobby began, the smell of whiskey strong on his breath. “What’d you do, y’idjits? I thought for sure your Daddy would have warned you off the little bastards, but good.”

Sam was trying to sit on one of the chairs, but the awkward structure of his legs made sitting comfortably nearly impossible, so instead he propped himself on the armrest, stretching his thin goat legs out before him. His eyes fixed on the older man in the seat across the table, and Sam’s tongue darted out to wet his upper lip.

When Sam seemed too distracted to answer, Dean said, “Hikers have been going missing, there’d been reports of Jersey Devil prints in the woods, but the trails led nowhere…. We thought we’d check it out.”

“You’re lookin’ good, Bobby,” Sam nearly growled, the sound reverberating in his chest.

Bobby looked askance at Sam before redirecting his attention to Dean.

“And?”

Dean shrugged, the slight movement rippling across his skin and catching both Sam and Bobby’s eyes with the simple gesture. He gave them both a disgusted grimace and said tightly, “And nothing. We were in the middle of the woods, things got a little hazy, and…this happened.” He opened his arms wide and gestured towards himself with his chin, the motion forcing the two other men to focus on his naked form.

Sam took a step forward, another low growl spilling from him, and Bobby barely had the presence of mind to grab for Sam’s wrist, detaining him for a few precious seconds.

“Dean, put on a damn towel or somethin’,” Bobby ordered. “You’re baiting the bears.” When Dean looked ready to complain, Bobby said, “I’m feelin’ it, too, so if you don’t do something to lessen the allure, you’re gonna have two of us after ya sooner than later.”

Bobby tugged at Sam’s arm. “And you need to take a long cold shower and reacquaint yourself with your right hand. I’ve seen how you’ve been lookin’ at us both, and it’s makin’ me a might uncomfortable.”

Sam’s face fell into his hands, and he tugged at his ears in annoyance. “I’ve acquainted myself with my hand, the bedsheets, both pillows, a few of Dean’s discarded socks, the curtains, and that chair you’re sitting in…nothing’s helped.”

Bobby was out of his seat before Sam finished his sentence.

“What I need is….” His gaze drifted to Dean, and Sam’s eyes went unfocused.

“You don’t need it,” Bobby scolded, hitting Sam in the head with his hat. “And you definitely don’t want it.” On principal, Bobby swatted Sam once more, adding an emphatic, “And I definitely don’t want to see it!”

Sam gave Bobby a piteous look, tossed Dean another lecherous glance, and then hurriedly skipped out of Bobby’s reach before he could make a grab for his hat again, trotting off to lock himself in the bathroom for the tenth time this visit.

“I’m surprised the damn thing hasn’t fallen off,” Bobby grumbled under his breath, suspiciously studying every possible seat in the house before finally leaning against the TV.

“Quality wood,” Dean sighed, resting his chin on his hand and the other disappearing under the tabletop as he stared at the locked bathroom door. When Bobby squinted over at him in alarm, Dean sat quickly upright and laid both of his hands flat on the table. “This table….good quality considering this place, isn’t it?”

Bobby sniffed, not fooled for a second.

“I know it’s har-…um, difficult, but you two have got to control yourselves. This situation will only get worse if you give in to the desire. Sam’s doing the best he can – poor kid’s gonna have a chafed dick by the time this is over – but you’ve got to do your part too, Dean.”

“I _know_ ,” Dean grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck in discomfort. “He’s my…and I want to….” Here Dean forced himself to stop, a mix of disgust and intrigue on his face, and he clenched his hands into fists on the table. “It’s just…messed up.”

“Don’t mess it up any more by doin’ what you’re doin’.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” Dean said, his lips pursing into a succulent moue.

“You’re doin’ it right now, boy!” Bobby warned, fixing his gaze out the window so that he wouldn’t get sucked in. “You’re a nymph, everything you do is…alluring. I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at Sam, all eyelashes and lips and skin and….” Bobby exhaled sharply, getting himself back on track. “Stop flirtin’ with your brother before you both do something you’ll regret.”

“I’m not flirting!” Dean denied again, his tongue darting out to slowly dampen his lips as he gazed up at Bobby through lowered lashes.

“You can’t help yourself, Dean! It’s what a nymph does! You’re designed to flirt, and Sam’s designed to react. We’ve just been lucky he hasn’t thrown you to the floor and taken advantage of the invitation, yet.”

A particularly loud series of thumps could be heard coming from the bathroom, followed by even louder groans, and Dean’s skin flushed pink with want, making him almost luminous in the dim light of the room. Dean slid from his seat and hovered by the bathroom door, his hands caressing the wood as he leaned against it.

“Dean!” Bobby shouted, bounding across the room, but stopping a couple of feet away, his hands flitting nervously as he tried to figure out what to do. “Get away from the door! I can’t touch you, or…it might go really bad, Dean.”

“Sam?” Dean purred huskily, ignoring the man behind him. “Tell me what you’re doing, Sam….”

The door bowed outwards as Sam slammed against it, Dean’s body almost flying into Bobby’s as he rebounded away from the force of Sam’s hit against the wood.

Bobby ducked out of the way just in time, Dean falling back on the carpet as the bathroom door continued to shake in its frame, as if Sam had somehow lost the ability to figure out its mechanics, too trapped in his lust to think clearly.

Bobby glanced from Dean, who was slowly getting to his hands and knees and crawling sensually towards the door, every motion suggestive, to the bathroom door that continued to rattle in its frame, the loud creaks indicating it wouldn’t hold for much longer.

“God-dammit,” Bobby cursed. “We gotta get you outta here.”

With that announcement, Bobby grabbed the bedspread and threw it over Dean, blocking his bare skin from sight and touch, and tossed the now gift wrapped man over his shoulder.

“We’ll be back when you’re done, Sam,” Bobby called from the door, and he hightailed it out of the room with a wriggling Dean clawing at him through the blankets.

And good God-damn, if that wasn’t more arousing than it should have been. 

                                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since Dean had actual feet, he was selected to drive the Impala back to Bobby’s, while Sam was relegated to unwilling passenger in Bobby’s truck. Bobby felt it was best to keep the brothers separated, because it had gotten to point if they spent any extended time together, the results turned out more and more embarrassing for those who might be unfortunate enough to witness it.

Bobby had enough to confess as it was already.

Sam didn’t take the separation kindly, and while Dean wasn’t too enthused about the prospect, Sam actually became a little violent. Not only did he have some of the physical features of a goat, but he was just as stubborn, and refused to listen to reason with Dean preening just beyond his reach.

Boy was a damn tease.

The only recourse was to drug Sam and heft him into the cab of Bobby’s truck, and lifting over six feet of pure muscle on his own wasn’t easy since Dean had to keep his distance, or risk arousing Sam from his slumber in more ways than one.

Even with Sam medicated, the trip didn’t go as smoothly as Bobby had hoped. It turned into a near cavalcade, what with Dean’s penchant for sudden nudity.

The older man wasn’t sure how Dean managed it, but even with Bobby trailing directly behind the Impala, Sam seatbelted at his side, Dean somehow managed to strip down from the clothes Bobby had forced on him to nothing more than his birthday suit, without ever wavering from his lane.

With Dean being what he was, this attracted the attention of passing male motorists. More than a few pickup trucks, Porsches, and assorted other vehicles soon started to follow the Impala closely, causing several fender benders on what felt like the longest car trip Bobby had ever taken.

No matter how many times Bobby managed to shake their tails and force Dean to pull over and rearmor himself with layers of flannel and denim, it was all gone by the time the next few stoplights had passed.

It only got worse when Sam woke up.

Even with Sam still groggy from the drugs, Bobby nearly lost his windshield – those dang hooves were deadly! – when Sam kicked out, trying to escape and get to Dean in the car ahead, catching sight of a bare arm out the side window. As if sensing that Sam had awakened – and just to spite him, Bobby was sure – articles of clothing began flying out the Impala’s window, like a trail of breadcrumbs for the hormonally challenged.

One of Dean’s shirts caught a lucky gust of wind and hit Sam in the face as he tried to hoist himself out of the truck, his sharp hooves scoring the vinyl of the bench seat. Bobby wasn’t quite sure what Sam had planned, positive that falling from a moving car would be dangerous for the delicate goat legs Sam was sporting, so Bobby hit him with another animal tranq that he’d stashed in his pocket for just such an emergency. Angered by the interruption, Sam wriggled back into the cab, seemingly intent on taking over the wheel when the medication finally kicked in. Sam passed out in Bobby’s lap, forcing the truck to list to the side before Bobby could compensate for the extra weight and shove Sam at least half-way into the passenger seat.

Bobby could already tell that this visit was gonna be just peachy. 

                                                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he pulled into the salvage yard a few minutes behind Dean, Bobby had to blink and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Dean was practically prancing around the small clearing in front of Bobby’s house, his only adornment a wreath of flowers upon his hair. He skipped up to the truck’s window and tossed one at Bobby, before leaning in to bequeath the sleeping Sam his own headdress. He trailed his fingers along the curve of Sam’s cheek, the mere touch of his hand making Sam’s lids slowly flutter open to focus on Dean’s face so tantalizingly close, lips nearly brushing. As Dean exhaled, Sam inhaled, shifting forward to fulfill the promise of their proximity, and Dean gave a trilling laugh, dancing away with a flirtatious glance over his shoulder.

“Great,” Bobby grumbled as Sam tried to work the door handle through his half-drugged haze. “I guess it’s Dean’s turn to lose his damn mind.” 

                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Sam and Dean settled in, things felt almost normal.

Almost.

But not quite.

Okay, so normal didn’t even factor in anymore, but Bobby had to harbor his delusions before he went as crazy as the two men currently residing in his home.

There was the usual brotherly bickering, now tinged with a lecherous tone that was entirely inappropriate, and far more touching – and giggling…the God-damn _giggling_ \- than the norm. Bobby still had to keep a watchful eye on the two, to ensure things didn’t progress any further than they should. The tip-tapping of Sam’s hooves on the hardwood floors nearly drove Bobby out of his mind, and took some getting used to, but the noise served as a great alarm system when Sam tried to sneak out of bed to hunt Dean down.

Dean wasn’t helping on that front, because his playful nymphly nature was taking this as the perfect opportunity to play some kind of extended game of hide n’ seek – if it happened to be featured on ESPN Extreme. It was when Bobby found Sam trying to climb a ladder up to the roof where Dean was “hiding”, if anyone could call sitting on the chimney top and waving wildly hiding, that Bobby nearly lost it. Sam’s slick hooves tangled in the rungs, making him repeatedly fall ass over teakettle into the weeds, and Bobby feared for Sam’s neck should Dean keep up the game.

Problem was, more often than not, everything was now a game to them both. 

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had it about two weeks in, the need to be away from the temptation Dean offered too much to resist.

It was getting more difficult to control himself whenever Dean got too near.

He carefully hopped down the stairs, hooves not made for the even human treads, wearing a pair of baggy jeans held up only by the sheer willpower of Sam’s belt. The bulky fabric hid the odd structure to his legs as best it could – which wasn’t that good at all - and it was only if anyone looked…well, looked in Sam’s general direction, that they might notice that he had no kneecaps to speak of and that there were odd lumps in back where there should only be the smooth line of thigh.

It was the double layer of hat over beanie that had Dean snickering when he caught sight of his brother trying to sneak out the back door.

Dean slunk up to Sam, his hips swaying teasingly, the nymph strong in his artful gaze.

“Where you goin’?” Dean asked with a simper, resting his hand on Sam’s sleeve and rubbing along his arm.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, every instinct telling him to take what was being offered, and tried to focus his thoughts on his end goal – to be anywhere but here.

“Out,” Sam hissed sharply, his body already reacting to Dean’s proximity. His hand was on the door when Bobby’s voice echoed through the kitchen.

“What in tarnation are you doin’, boy? Get your ass back upstairs.” Bobby paused when he caught Sam’s get-up, not used to seeing him clothed much anymore.

“Are we playing a game?” Dean asked with a joyful bounce, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’re playing a game, Bobby!”

“If this is the let’s-put-on-as-many-clothes-as-we-can game, then I’m all for it. Your turn, Dean! I think I got a parka somewhere in the closet….”

“I need to get out of here for a little while,” Sam pleaded, his gaze fixed on Bobby’s. His eyes darted to Dean, who was playing with the zipper on Sam’s sweatshirt, pulling it up and down and smiling with child-like glee at the sounds it made, before looking back up at the older man with desperation in his gaze. “Alone.”

“Alone games aren’t any fun,” Dean pouted, his lower lip rounding out in a practiced pout. “I know a better game we can play.” He looked up at Sam from under his lashes, tongue darting out to wet his lip as he stepped in more closely, his voice lowering to a silky purr. “You wanna play with me?”

Sam’s hand shook on the doorknob as he gripped it even tighter, trying to maintain his sense of sanity in the face of Dean’s flirtation.

“Dean!” Bobby snapped, clapping his hands together as if gathering the attention of an unruly pet. “Let’s go watch some TV, okay? I think _Battlebots_ is on!”

Dean’s smile lit up the room and he skipped out with a joyful laugh, Sam and Bobby watching him go.

“You know you can’t leave, Sam,” Bobby said sadly, still watching after Dean. “We can’t risk it.”

A muffled rustle drew his attention back to Sam, who stood in the door surrounded by his discarded clothes, his arousal evident. With eyes wide, Sam asked excitedly, “ _Battlebots_?” and trotted out after his brother. 

                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby came into the den to find Dean alone for once, his face nearly pressed to the window with his hands spread wide on the cool pane, framing whatever it was the caught his attention outdoors. His back was stiff, tension radiating from his body, and Bobby wondered what might be wrong.

When Bobby peeked over his shoulder, he saw Sam tinkering with something out in the yard, his furred haunches surrounded by various sized pipes and tubing.

“Whatcha doin’, Dean?” Bobby asked kindly.

“I’m trying to stay away from him,” Dean explained, his hands tightening into fists against the glass. “It’s getting…harder.”

Bobby nodded curtly, thinking of the extra locks he’d just added to their doors to keep them separated at night. Sam’s door had already had to be replaced.

“Just stay focused. I’m still lookin’ into things….”

“I’m trying!” Dean nearly shouted, slapping his palms against the window. “It was just a stupid mistake! We weren’t even going to check that part of the woods….”

Sam’s head lifted from the pile of junk in his lap at the sudden noise, his eyes catching Dean’s in the window. His face broke into a wide smile, the permanent scruff that had grown on Sam’s chin somehow making his teeth appear even whiter in the sunlight.

Bobby caught Dean’s answering reflection, his teeth gleaming in the window before he pushed off the couch and ran for the door. Bobby saw Dean dart across the small yard, twirling around Sam with a loud laugh, before he swooped in to slap Sam’s shoulder.

“Tag! You’re it!”

Sam got to his feet, chasing after Dean into the depths of the salvage yard, his awkwardly structured legs adding an extra bounce to his step so that he bounded after his brother, rapidly covering the distance between them.

“For Pete’s sake!” Bobby cursed under his breath, running out to find them before they got into any trouble. 

                                                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Research turned into a joke, the boys unable to concentrate on much else but each other, which left Bobby the sole source to find a cure. As the days passed, Sam and Dean grew even more childlike in their attention spans and their interests, except for the fact that Bobby had to separate them on more than a few occasions before he was scarred for life, and their future therapy bills got too large to handle.

 _“Dean, put down the coffee pot. It doesn’t belong in the bathtub.”  
_  
The lines were blurring more and more with every hour that ticked by, and it was only through careful handling that Bobby kept things on a relatively even keel.

 _“Sam, let go of the gardening shears. No, I don’t need a haircut.”  
_  
The final straw that got both boys banned from research altogether was Dean’s dare to Sam after he found one rather revealing picture of a satyr balancing a goblet on his engorged penis.

 _“Dean! I said to keep your hands off the blessed wafers! They’re not a snack food!”  
_  
Bobby had to go out and buy emergency place settings after that little fiasco, because he wasn’t touching anything left in his kitchen with a ten-foot pole.

 _“Sam! I told you to keep your hands off your brother!”  
_  
There wasn’t enough disinfectant in the world to make that idea palatable. 

                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby blessed the gods for creating DVDs. He didn’t know what moron decided to change the weekday afternoon block of cartoons to endless repeats of _Maury_ , Springer, and Judge Whomever, but it was making babysitting far more difficult than it had to be. The bright colors and cheery music could keep Dean entertained for up to an hour or more, and wherever Dean was, Sam was sure to follow.

So Bobby stocked up on whatever Amazon could send him.

Bobby sat in the armchair, book in his lap, making sure the boys were settling in. Dean was sitting directly in front of the television, hand reaching out to touch the screen as if he could pluck the images from it, while Sam hovered close, attention torn between Dean and whatever was on the TV.

He sat perched on the coffee table, a safe distance for Bobby’s internal gauge, and Bobby returned his focus to his research.

When Mary Poppins broke into yet another song, Dean rolling to his knees in excitement, Bobby heard Sam start to hum along. Dean cocked his head like a dog hearing a distant whistle, and Sam’s almost tuneless humming got louder. Dean looked back at Sam coyly over his shoulder, smile bright, when Bobby heard the sound of his phone ringing in the next room.

He cast the two men a cautious glance, but they seemed settled, so he hustled off to answer, hoping Mary Poppins was as competent a nanny as she claimed to be.

When Bobby returned, he immediately covered his eyes with one hand and mentally fired Mary Poppins from televisual babysitting duty.

He could never listen to that sugar song the same way again.

It was Sam’s pleased moan that made Bobby step up to action, and he scrambled forward to drag the kneeling Dean away from Sam’s lap, Sam baring his teeth in frustration.

Dean just settled back on the carpet, looking up at Bobby with spit slick lips and something suspicious smeared on his cheek.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Bobby grumbled uselessly, not quite knowing what to do anymore to make this better.

Dean looked crestfallen for a minute, before Mary Poppins’ cheerful laugh refocused his attention onto the television once more, and he stated with a bright smile, “I like music.” 

                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby awoke to an irritating noise that assaulted his eardrums, the high-pitched sound nearly splitting his skull. It was too early for this shit.

“G’dm, ‘larm,” Bobby mumbled into his pillow, reaching out and blindly swatting at his nightstand until he hit the offending machine, knocking it to the floor where it landed with a thump and a jangle.

The noise didn’t stop.

Bobby lifted his face from the pillow, hat tilted precariously over one eye, and glared around the room, squinting to make sense of the blurry shapes to see if he could find one that he might be able to blame for his discomfort. Once he managed to focus, his brain slowly coming on-line without its usual caffeine fueling, he realized the horrible sounds were coming from outside, his window cracked to let in some air while he slept.

He stumbled his way out of bed, sheets tangled around him, and shoved open the window the rest of the way, leaning out to investigate what he needed to kill for waking him before 6:00 AM.

Sam.

And Dean.

And…

How in the hell had they gotten out of their rooms?

Bobby blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, but the incessant shrieking kept on going, so he knew it was sadly real.

Sam perched on one of Bobby’s rusted junkers, hooves digging into the bumper and a nearby stack of tires to keep his precarious balance. He was piping a tune on what looked like a pan flute made out of old car parts and tubing, and Dean was enthralled, dancing around him as Sam attempted to tie his discordant notes into something like a song.

So that was Sam’s little arts n’ crafts project.

As Bobby watched, Dean danced closer, running his hands over Sam’s bared torso, eyes glimmering in the light of the new day. The cogs in Bobby’s brain started to slowly click into place, Sam’s music enveloping the salvage yard as it slowly morphed into something more harmonic, and it suddenly hit him. He leaned out of the window, eyes wide, nearly tumbling out before grabbing onto the ledge as he shouted in panic, “No, Sam! Stop!”

Dean had managed to resist most of Sam’s advances so far, somehow holding on to the knowledge that something about it wasn’t right, though neither of them could quite say what it was anymore. But if there was one thing a nymph couldn’t resist, it was music, and Sam had apparently found the missing piece to Dean’s final seduction during all those hours of supposedly wasted research.

By the time Bobby ran downstairs, both men were gone. 

                                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satyrs and nymphs were relatively simple creatures. They were a lot like children, with simple interests and simple needs, no thoughts or cares to distract them from their pleasures. All they needed were woods to roam in and lots of sex, and they were content.

Bobby still heard them sometimes, Sam’s music and Dean’s laughter trickling through the trees that bordered his property.

Sometimes he heard other sounds that hinted at things he didn’t want to think about.

Sam’s music had improved as time passed, the melodies mingling with Dean’s husky laughter in the trees, and stirring something in Bobby’s blood that made him…want. He’d stand on the edge of his property, the call making him yearn to lose himself in the depths of the woods, to fight his way through the tangled leaves and branches until he found them. It made him ache to seek its source, the sounds offering pleasure for the taking.

When the craving got too much, that’s when he’d make his way into town and find himself a willing woman. It was a way to ground himself in humanity, the feel of warm flesh against his, and the sharp pulse of pleasure that sparked through his veins when he came.

It was the only thing that kept him from searching them out, from following that will ’o wisp of sound that pledged so much, kept him from joining them for the promise of forever.

He kept everyone else at bay, determined to protect the boys from their interference, and to protect everyone else from the boys, though a few disappeared as time went on. But Bobby was there when they wandered out of the woods days, weeks, months, even years later – talking nonsense about the things they’d seen, the things they’d done.

The things they still craved.

Bobby reassured himself with the fact that Sam and Dean were harmless. There was no need to hunt them down. They didn’t do any permanent damage.

After all, the sharp stab of desire that flashed through him when he listened only hurt for a little while.

 


End file.
